A Wolfy Little Christmas
by hbrackett
Summary: Derek scrooges up the holiday big time, and Stiles is in danger. The Alpha gets a visit from three highly annoyed ghosts to smack some Christmas spirit into him. Hope you guys enjoy! P.S. Chap 1 is now fixed, had the wrong one in there for a while.
1. Chapter 1

"The torture is almost over; one more paragraph to write and I'm a free man!" Stiles exulted. He looked down at his notes. "Nathan Hale's last words were 'I regret that I have but one life to give for my country', and then he was hung. Hmmm, 'Hale?' You think maybe he was an ancestor of Derek's?"

Scott laughed, but didn't take his eyes off of the new Call of Duty. Stiles knew that the other boy hadn't done his homework and had no plans to; his report card was going to be a nuclear explosion of failure. "Can you see anyone trying to hang one of Derek's family? He'd wolf out and kill the lot of them. Must be different Hales."

"There might be a family connection. I mean, Derek's pretty well-hung…" Stiles grinned while Scott made ralphing noises.

"Lame. And what did I say about oversharing?" Scott flicked his golden eyes briefly to Stiles and then back to the game.

"Dude, you're using wolf-powers on Call of Duty? Now that's lame."

"Who cares... are you finished with that stuff? If this plan of yours is going to work then we need to get to Derek's house ASAP." Scott shut off the game, stretched his arms and yawned.

"Jesus, Scott! Put away the fangs, my Dad is still home!" Stiles heard his father's tread coming up the stairs. Not three seconds later, there was a cursory knock at the door before Sheriff Stilinski popped his head in.

"Stiles, I'm heading to work. I'll be at the office through the holiday, but Mel told me she's having you over. Tell her thank you for me, Scott and that I'll bury her last two speeding tickets when I get to work."

"I will, Sheriff." Scott called out from behind Stiles' upside down history book. He was having trouble banishing his wolf while still high on video-game adrenalin. Fortunately, the Sheriff didn't seem to notice

"Take care boys. Happy holiday." They heard him tread slowly back down the stairs.

"How come you guys never say 'Merry Christmas'? It's always 'Happy Holidays' around here. Political correct much?"

Stiles looked uncharacteristically down.

"My dad doesn't celebrate it. Christmas was my mother's thing, she always went all out. When she died…it just seemed too weird for him to do it without her. That's why my Dad always works and I'm always with you and your Mom."

"Oh." Scott looked abashed, which proved to be the perfect werewolf-banishing emotion. His eyes faded to brown and the fangs and claws receded.

"Well, let's go set up before Sour Wolf gets home." Stiles grabbed his bag of Spectacular Christmas Surprises and led the way downstairs to his Jeep.

"I love it. Sour Wolf. Only you could get away with that." Scott laughed.

"Derek lets me get away with just about anything. He's been so great over the last year, he's not the same grump he was when we met him. He does little things for me all the time to show me he cares, he gave me a key to his new house…on a silver chain no less since I'm going to move in as soon as I graduate. And only I know the secret code of the security system. And it _isn't_ 'Allison'!" Stiles dared him silently to guess the super-secret code word. He'd never get it, no one would ever think of it, but it was Derek's favorite word in the whole world.

"I should hope not. It's probably 'Stiles'."

Stiles turned red and kept silent. Within a short time, they arrived at the Hale house to find the rest of the Pack already waiting for them.

"About time, Stilinski. You know, some of us have lives to get to!" Jackson called out from the second floor balcony where he'd been trying to break in. He had no luck; Derek had the place reinforced against any invasion…it was almost a fortress. He hopped over the railing and dropped the twenty feet to the ground landing neatly on his feet.

"Yeah, glad you could avoid the paparazzi long enough to get here. It wouldn't be the same without you leaning against the wall in 'model poses' while the rest of us do all the work." Stiles grumped at him.

Jackson scowled. "I DON'T do model poses!"

Stiles ignored him and pulled the key to the front door from where it hung around his neck and let them into the house. The alarm gave off its warning buzz before Stiles could get over to it and punch in the 6 button code to deactivate it. He was careful not to let the others see the buttons.

Lydia and Allison came in next laden with decorations, while Danny and Ted lugged in the huge Christmas tree. Scott carried in the bags of presents while Jackson leaned against a nearby wall trying to look unattainable.

"You think Derek will be surprised? This will be his first Christmas in the house since it was rebuilt. I never really heard him talk about the holiday, and he always changes the subject when it comes up." asked Allison, while she helped Danny and Ted get the tree secured into the base. Lydia was adjusting the super-expensive cloth to drape around the base for the presents and Scott started unpacking them. All stopped what they were doing to stare at Stiles in horror when he answered.

"Oh, he'll be surprised. Look…this is sort of the anniversary of when he lost his family. He's really down about the whole holiday thing, so I want to make Christmas something he looks forward to again; I want him to be happy about it since he has a new family to celebrate it with. He rebuilt his house…now it's up to me to rebuild his Christmas."

Even Jackson was pale as milk. "Stiles…have you _met_ Derek? I know he's the Alpha and all, but he still needs years of therapy before he's going to be ready for something like this."

Allison and Lydia looked around as if trying to find an escape route while Scott looked like he was going to throw up from fright. Danny and Ted, who knew Derek the least of all of them as the newest additions to the Pack were nervous just from seeing the reactions of the others.

"Has he ever _said_ anything about celebrating Christmas to you?" asked Allison gently.

"Yes. He said 'never in a million years, no way, over his dead wolf body, and he'd eat anyone who tried to surprise him'. Oh, come on. That's just Derek. He doesn't mean it."

They stared at him. Stiles let out an exasperated breath.

"Look, I'm just tired of _never getting to have my own Christmas!_ Between Derek and my father, I'm doomed to spend it every year at Scott's! No offense, Scott. You're my best friend and all, but this is practically my home now and I want my own Christmas just once!"

None of the Pack knew what to say. Shrugging, they went back to decorating and setting up the tree…but the festive mood was definitely gone. Stiles went into the kitchen and stuck the tray of cookies he'd prepared at home into the oven to bake.

When everything was set up at last, the Pack placed their presents under the tree with Stiles placing his small gift on top of the others. The Pack looked around at the rooms choked with wreaths, holly, mistletoe, blinking lights and inhaled the rich scent of the tree, and the delicious aroma of freshly baked cookies in the oven. A few more minutes and they'd be perfect. This was a Christmas right out of a Martha Stewart magazine. As predicted by the weatherman, it started to snow heavily again (a near miraculous event in California), the beauty of the scene marred only by the freezing drop in temperature and fierce wind that accompanied it. The Pack gazed out the window and pitied anyone stuck out there.

They all heard Derek's Camaro pull up to its usual spot and the hard slam of the car door followed by Derek stomping through the snow and up the front steps. Stiles got to the door and opened it wide (nearly shrieking at the Arctic blast that entered when he did), his heart leaping in anticipation like it always did when Derek returned from a long trip. His heart finished its leap…and then plummeted down through his stomach at the expression on Derek's face.

"Merry Christmas, Der." Stiles said in a funereal voice.

"What. The Hell. Is this?" Derek growled. His scowl was radioactive, flashes of red sparked from his eyes as he obviously tried to control himself.

"We…I… thought it would be fun to surprise you. You know. First Christmas in the new home…" Stiles stopped. The Pack was looking at each other nervously. Derek entered the house fully and looked around at the holiday trappings, before finally zeroing in on the Christmas tree itself.

"There's a tree in my house. You put a dead tree in my house." Derek turned around once more as if trying to use heat vision to destroy everything he saw. "Pack. You are free to go home. Now."

A mad rush for the door ensued with Jackson escaping first. Scott remained in the doorway looking at Stiles with concern. Stiles hadn't moved, just stared at Derek with what felt like a cinderblock in his chest.

"Scott." Derek said in a deadly quiet voice. Scott retreated down the stairs but went no further. Stiles thought vaguely that Scott was by far the bravest of all of them.

"Stiles, you are aware of the fact that my family burned to death in this house six years ago, right around this time of year? Did it ever occur to you that maybe I didn't want to celebrate Christmas, because oh I don't know…it was too goddamned painful? Does anything besides ADHD inspired lunacy ever occur to you? No? I didn't think so. You can go with the others. Now."

Derek turned his back on Stiles. The younger boy was devastated. He thought Derek might need a little help getting back into the swing of Christmas, but he honestly never thought it would turn out this badly. The idea that he had upset his mate this much was like a knife in his chest. He wanted to tell Derek that he felt just as badly around Christmas because of his mother. He wanted to tell Derek that sometimes the holiday inspired such a black depression and bleak loneliness in him, that if left to his own devices without the warmth of Scott and his mother…he didn't think he would survive it. Scott wasn't going to be hosting Stiles' Christmases forever…and Stiles always felt that the day would come when he would be on his own when everyone else was rejoicing with people they loved and who loved them. Being with Derek…for the first time being with someone who seemed to really love and appreciate everything Stiles was…it gave him a glimmer of hope that he could be like everyone else and be happy. Guess not.

Stiles made a choking sound as his eyes seemed to heat up. He tried a few times to speak, but his vocal cords had thickened to cables and he couldn't get them to work. Even breathing was becoming difficult. He turned toward the door, and began to drag feet that felt like they wore cement shoes away from the only person in the world whose happiness was more important than his own.

"Stiles." At the sound of Derek's voice, Stiles felt his breath and strength return. He knew it. Derek would blow his top, but then get over it and be fine. He would call the others back in and they would have a real Pack Christmas. The tears that threatened before now let loose, but from relieved happiness instead of despair.

"Yeah, Der?"

Derek came up to him and gently stroked Stiles neck. Stiles' eyes closed at the touch of his mate, but then snapped open again as Derek found the chain of the necklace holding the house key and yanked it off.

"You won't be needing this anymore. And the code is being changed." Derek picked Stiles up by his collar, stomped over to the front door and dropped him to the floor of the porch and slammed the door, the heavy deadbolt sliding into place a moment later. Scott ran over to pick him up, then backed away a few steps at the expression on Stiles' face.

The boy's dark eyes were nearly black with some indescribable emotion, his mouth pressed into a thin hard line. Stiles stood up, and stared at a point on the ground while breathing heavily. His face was red, and the tracks of tears (now frozen) were still evident though they had stopped flowing. With one hand, Stiles reached to touch the back of his neck, then inspected the drop of blood on his fingertip.

Scott was getting more alarmed as he watched Stiles face change. The redness turned white except for two spots high on his cheekbones. A vein was pounding in his forehead, and Stiles' fists were clenched hard enough for his nails to break the skin.

"Oh, Jesus Stiles…I'm so sorry man…come on, let's go to my house, my Mom has dinner waiting…" Scott trailed off. Stiles hadn't moved. "Stiles, give me the keys to the Jeep, no way am I letting you drive. Your jacket is still in the house, come on let's go before you freeze."

Stiles reached into his pocket without a word and tossed Scott the keys. Scott ran to the jeep and started the engine, turning the heat up full blast. Stiles hadn't followed him. The wind and snow made it nearly impossible to see anything beyond a few feet away. Scott ran up to the porch, his nose telling him before his eyes that Stiles had vanished. Scott closed his eyes and called up the wolf in a panic before casting about for the scent of his best friend. The trail led down the porch…and then faded into the screaming wind and swirling snow. The scent was destroyed, for all Scott's nose could tell him Stiles had just evaporated into thin air.

"Goddamn it!" he yelled aloud.

Scott ran up to the door and frantically rang the bell and knocked. There was no answer, though Scott thought he could hear things smashing in the house. Scott growled low in his throat. There was no time. He had to try to find Stiles. Scott dug out his phone and called Allison. He told her about Stiles and told her to call the Pack and the police. She agreed and hung up. Scott shifted fully into his Beta form, sighing in relief as his body temperature rocketed. He was still freezing, but it was much more bearable now. He gave one last look at the rebuilt home and made a soft oath to himself.

"Anything happens to him, and I'LL burn your house down this time. With you inside it." Then the young Beta took off in the Jeep, never noticing the shadowy figure that now stood on the second floor balcony regarding him silently.

{}{}{}{}

Derek was able to hold off the transformation right up until he smelled the cookies burning in the oven. With an anguished roar, he went into full Alpha phase and lost himself to rage. When he came to himself a short time later, it looked like someone had planted a grenade in the Christmas tree. It was kindling, and if any of the presents had survived it would be a miracle. Derek stood up, his clothes falling off of him in shreds and went into the kitchen to turn off the oven which was now sending out black clouds of smoke. He nearly went Alpha again, the memories of the fire so vivid in his mind that it felt like he was reliving it. He shut off the oven and used a mitt to pull the tray out and briefly inspected the two dozen cremated cookie corpses of gingerbread men before tossing the whole thing in the sink. Gingerbread men. They just had to be gingerbread men.

Derek went upstairs to his bedroom and got under the covers, the grief coursing through him as he shuddered helplessly. Their faces flashed through his mind, his mother and father, brother and sister, aunt and uncle, grandmother and grandfather, niece and nephew, cousins and in-laws all gone. Only he was left, the last Hale. Laura had identified the bodies, Derek was in no shape to do it. When she had inherited the Alpha power, she knew something was wrong and had flown back to Beacon Hills with Derek…he had come to stay with her for his big sister's first Christmas living on her own. Instead of opening presents, they sat through a mass funeral and burial. Laura and Derek also received mental flashes through the family's shared connection of the pain and suffering felt by the Hales as they died, burning to death amidst flaming holiday decorations. Derek was forever scarred by this, couldn't even think of Christmas without feeling white-hot rage that his family had been stolen from him. Falling in love with Stiles had been an unlikely miracle, but the betrayal Derek felt when the boy went behind his back and tried to force Christmas on him…to shove it down his throat as if to mock the memory of his family…Derek would rather be alone than forgive that. Stiles was better off anyway without him. Derek knew he had to be cruel about it or Stiles would never stop trying to come back. He dimly remembered hearing the bell and knocking while he was transformed, and it was lucky he was too far gone to open the door or Stiles would have been in real danger. He didn't want to hurt the boy, but Derek just couldn't deal with him right now, not after this. He fell into a troubled sleep, the burning scent from the cookies permeating his dreams, only now it was Stiles who was trapped in the fire, struggling through the flames before looking up to see a burning Christmas tree fall on top of him.

"DEEERRRRREEEEKKKKKK!" he shouted

"STILES!" Derek shot upright in his bed, shivering at the reality of the dream, his heart wrenching at the thought of Stiles in danger.

He looked at the clock. It was a quarter to 12. Derek rubbed his face and realized he was sweating, the sheets drenched. A miracle, considering the door leading onto the balcony was open and freezing wind was screaming into the room.

Derek got up and padded to the door, shutting it and locking it tight.

"Wow, little brother. Work out much?"

Derek shrieked and turned to see his sister sitting in the wingback chair Stiles liked to read in. She looked the same as the last time he had seen her. She covered her eyes.

"Clothes. Now."

Staring at her, bewildered, Derek put on a robe and a pair of slippers. He pinched himself. This had to be a dream. Sniffing, he caught the aroma of her perfume, a scent he hadn't smelled in over a year.

"Laura? What's going on? What are you doing here?" he asked, his voice trembling.

"Good to see you too. I am here, Derek Owen Hale, to tell you that you are in deep shit. Derek Owen…haha you know I never realized before that you're initials spell 'D'oh!'"

"Are you…" Derek walked over to her and touched her hand. It was solid. Tears sprang to his eyes. She was real. "Laura, are you back?"

She looked at him sadly, her usual teasing smirk fading away. "No, this is just a brief visit. The others wanted to come…Dad wanted to kick your ass, and Mom wanted scream at you until your ears bled, so I thought I'd spare you all that. You fucked up, little brother, big time. You gained the attention of powerful spirits that haven't had to walk the earth in over a hundred years, and since you're a werewolf and not a Ghostbuster, you will have to listen to what they say. Do yourself a favor and don't pull any macho Alpha crap with them or they will smack you down. These guys are big shots…got it?"

Derek looked at her blankly. "I don't understand! Why is this happening?"

"What you did to Stiles was inexcusable. He loves you more than anything, and you killed him."

"What do you mean I killed him? He was alive when I threw him out the door! Humans aren't _that_ delicate!" Derek was panicked. Could he have hurt Stiles without realizing it?

Laura shook her head. "You killed what was inside of him. He's been hurt a lot, Derek. The loss of his mother, bullying by kids at school…a father who loves him but is never around…and friends who are all in an exclusive club and happily in love. Then you broke his heart right in front of them…on Christmas Eve. It was too much for him. He's dead inside and very shortly he's going to be dead for real, unless he gets really really lucky. He's somewhere out there in that storm. The Pack can't find him, the police can't find him. Everyone's frantic. And oh boy, are they mad at you."

Before she finished speaking, Derek was walking back to the balcony door, intending to shift and hunt for Stiles and bring him to safety. He wrenched at the handle, which didn't move. It might have been made of stone. Derek struggled with it, but it moved not even a millimeter.

"Supernaturally frozen doorknobs: One; Derek's Alpha Strength: Zero." laughed Laura.

"What the hell are you talking about?" snarled Derek.

"Nothing, something I read once. Listen, which part of 'the attention of powerful spirits' are you not getting? You're not going _anywhere_ anytime soon. They are bound by rules not to hurt you, but oh boy are they going to mess with your head! The first one arrives at midnight, which means…oops! I need to go."

Laura stood up. Derek began to panic. "Laura, please let me out. I have to go find him. I'll never forgive myself if anything happens to him!"

"You won't have to forgive yourself. He dies, you'll have a whole mess of problems. We may get to see each other again sooner than you think. Derek…I know you love and miss us…but you aren't honoring our memory by destroying yourself. We want you to be happy! And you _were _happy while he was with you."

Laura began to fade away. Derek tried to grab her, but his arms passed through her image with no resistance. The last thing he saw was her teasing smile…and her saddened eyes.

He was alone in the room. Looking at the clock again, he saw that it was 11:59. The numbers changed to 12:00 as he watched. Somewhere in the house, the grandfather clock was tolling out the hour. Derek tried the door to the bedroom, and it opened easily. Heading downstairs, he heard a noise in the kitchen. Entering, he beheld a strange woman wearing a Christmas themed kitchen apron inspecting the cremated cookies.

"Hmmm, not his best work. He must have been distracted. That's my boy…distracted." The woman had jet black hair and dark brown eyes. The resemblance to Stiles was uncanny.

"You…you're…" he stammered.

"Stella Stilinski….acting Ghost of Christmas Past. How do you do?"

Derek was speechless.

"So, I understand you threw my son out into the snow when he tried to surprise you with a Christmas party. Can I give you just one small piece of advice?" She looked around as if afraid of being overheard. Derek stepped in close to her. Quick as thought, she drew her fist back and slammed it into Derek's cheek. He flew backward into the nearest wall and slid to the floor, dazed.

"The advice is: 'Don't do that again.'" she smiled at him, rubbing her knuckles.

Derek got to his feet, rubbing his face. "You hit me! I thought that was against the rules!"

She nodded as if at an apt pupil. "I'm also not supposed to come back from the dead. As you can see…I have a flagrant disregard for rules. Ironic, considering my husband. I have a long list of things that are against the rules that I am also prepared to disregard…and I would just love an excuse to try them out on you. Now, will you be a good boy and come along with me?"

Derek nodded. She turned and opened a door in the far wall that hadn't been there a moment before. Derek hesitated a moment, then followed her through.


	2. Chapter 2

Derek followed Stella (from a safe distance…the woman had a right hook from hell) through the door into a room that looked like the very source of Christmas itself. A dozen full sized and over-decorated Christmas trees crowded every corner of three separate rooms, each one loaded with presents. Each present was labeled 'Stiles'. It was quiet for a minute, then tiny feet came padding down the stairs. A six year old Stiles Stilinsky came quietly down and beheld the early morning light coming in through the window. He wore Scooby Doo footy pajamas, one hand clutched a worn teddy bear and the other a shabbily wrapped present labeled 'Mom & Dad'. Some of the letters were backwards. Stiles walked over to where he had set out Santa's milk and cookies and was delighted to see that the dish and glass were empty. He completely ignored Derek and the shade of his mother and placed the present on top of one of the piles.

"He's sneaking down not to open his own presents like every other kid…but to make sure we got ours. He saved up for it all by himself and hid it in his room for two months, just bursting to give it to us. He was that kind of kid." Stella said softly. Without a glance at the mountain of presents he brought the dish and glass into the kitchen and placed them carefully into the sink before pulling over a chair so that he could wash them. After they were put away, he took a box of crayons from his toy chest near the television and some paper and began making his parents a Christmas picture decorated with a images of trees, Santas, wreaths and presents. Derek watched him put it on the fridge with a magnet next to about a dozen other drawings.

His heart broke looking at this miniature Stiles wanting nothing more than to let his parents know how much he loved them. While Stiles was admiring his own artwork, he looked over to see his father step into the room. Steven Stilinsky looked younger and fitter, and seemed a much happier man than the Sheriff Derek remembered. Stiles ran up to him and Steven gathered the boy up in his arms and swung him around, Stiles squealing in delight.

"Merry Christmas, son!" he told the boy.

"Merry Christmas, Daddy. Is Mommy up yet?" Derek was jolted yet again by Stiles' child voice, so like and yet so unlike the one he knew.

"Yes, she'll be down in a minute. Why don't we get breakfast started so we can open your presents, what do you say?"

"Okay Daddy." Stiles opened the fridge and pulled out things he knew his father would need: milk, eggs, bread, juice. While his father started to cook, Stiles went to the pantry and got out plastic plates, cups and utensils and set the table carefully.

"We don't use regular dishes on holidays, so no one has to clean up." Ghost-Stella informed Derek. When the living Stella joined her family, breakfast was ready and they sat down to enjoy the large meal, laughing and cracking jokes. Stella immediately noticed the picture and admired it while young Stiles beamed with pride. Finally, jumping up and down with anticipation, Stiles pulled them into the living room.

"Open your present, Mom & Dad!" he called.

Steven looked around, pretending he couldn't see it. "All I see are _your_ presents. Are you sure we got one? Maybe Santa forgot about us!" Steven pretended to be heartbroken over this possibility.

"No, Daddy! It's right here!" Stiles pointed it out to him. Stella took it and opened it together with her husband. Inside was a beautiful silvery picture frame, containing a photo of the McCalls and the Stilinskis together with their children, all smiling into the camera. Derek gaped at a gap-toothed young Scott and the dark haired man who was presumably his father. The Stilinskis exclaimed over the picture and the professional framing job that Stiles had paid for and Melissa McCall had taken him to have done.

"Hang it up! Hang it up!" Stiles demanded. Steven had put a nail in one of the walls anticipating this moment, and Stella hung the picture up on it.

"Thank you, son…that was the best Christmas present ever!" Stella squeezed Stiles into a tight hug.

Only then did the Stiles Derek knew so well return as the little boy transformed himself into a Tasmanian devil and whirled through his own horde of presents scattering paper everywhere. Steven filmed everything with a large camera, laughing at the huge mess his son was making and the squeals Stiles gave out over each new toy. Derek watched all of this with a literal pain in his chest.

"Come on." Ghost-Stella pointed back to the door.

"No, please…I want to see more."

"There's other things you need to see now." Her voice brooked no argument. Distraught, he followed her through the door and found himself outside.

They were at the local playground somehow, the Stilinski home vanishing as soon as they passed through. Derek looked around. He hadn't been here in years. Stiles and Scott were building a snowman, while nearby some other kids were having a snowball fight. Scott took a break now and then to use his inhaler, Stiles looking concerned every time he heard his friend wheeze.

The snowball throwing kids came over and stood looking at them. Stiles looked up. "Hello. Do you want to help us with the snowman?" Scott began to get nervous. He didn't like the looks of the other kids. One of them grabbed Scott's inhaler and threw it amazingly far where it landed in the snow.

"My inhaler!" Scott shouted. He immediately scrambled after it, unable to find it in the snow.

The boy who threw it laughed, and a startled Derek realized it was Jackson.

"What a dweeb. Let's go guys, I'll find my dad and he'll pick us up." Jackson walked off while the other two boys stayed behind.

"We have to help him build the snowman!" said the first.

"Yeah…and I know just how to do it!" put in the second. They tackled Stiles and proceeded to bury him in the snow up to his neck. When he was stuck fast, crying in fright, the boys picked up the large ball of snow that made up the half-finished snowman's body and slammed it right down on top of his head. The screams were cut off. Snarling Derek walked over to fling the boys out of the way and rescue Stiles only to find that he was a ghost in this world of memory. The boys continued laughing as they went to find Jackson.

"Aaaaarrrrgggghhhh!" he screamed his frustration to the wind, only realizing then that he was not shifting. He looked down at his hands and felt his face.

"What's happening? Why can't I change?" he asked Stella.

"There's no need for you to change here. I need to make sure you understand certain things and I can't do that if you're running around on all fours. No offense, I have nothing against werewolves…the nice ones…but I am on a tight schedule. Look! Scott's found his inhaler. He's coming back."

Scott returned and looked around for Stiles, then noticed the moving mound of snow nearby. He dug Stiles out and watched him brush the snow off of him.

Derek looked at the boy's face, worried.

"What's wrong with him? Why does he look like that?" Stiles' face was blank, the eyes staring ahead at nothing. He ignored Scott who frantically tried to get his attention. Scott got so upset he actually started to cry when Stiles snapped out of it.

"Hey, Scott, don't cry! I'm okay!" Stiles gave Scott a hug, and together they walked away.

"What happened to him just then?" asked Derek.

"My son doesn't deal well with cruelty, whether from life or from other people. It hurts him deep down inside. It's so opposite to his nature that his mind just tries to get away from it."

Derek looked after the boy, amazed that anyone could take it into his head to be cruel to Stiles. Then he thought of his actions earlier that evening, and the full weight of what he had done hit him hard enough to knock him down. For a second, he thought Stella had hit him again.

"One more place to go." Stella reached down and took Derek's hand. From the ease at which she yanked him to his feet, he wondered if she were holding back when she punched him earlier.

She covered his eyes with her hand and when she removed them Derek saw they were standing in a funeral parlor. A closed coffin lay at the front of the room as dozens of people walked by to pray or pay their respects. Stiles sat in the front row with his father staring at the coffin.

"Why is Mommy in there? Why is Mommy in a box?" he asked, the tears pouring down his face.

"Um, Stiles, Mommy is going to God…as a present. He needs her up in Heaven to do very important things. We'll see her again someday."

Stiles just stared at the coffin. He was clutching his bear again, and in the other hand he held a photo of his mother from before the cancer. His eyes would switch from the coffin to the photo and back again, unable to process the fact of her death. He gripped the frame so hard the glass cracked.

"I want her. I want her, Daddy. God can't have her! _She's mine_!" Stiles voice started to get loud. Others looked down at the child with sympathy. A tall dark haired woman came in with her husband and spoke briefly with Steven. Derek was shocked to recognize his own parents.

"Oh…did my parents know your family?" he asked. Ghost-Stella nodded. "Diana and I were friends for years. I even knew your family secret. Never told a living soul, not even my husband. They were the best people I ever knew." Stella took out a handkerchief and wiped her eyes.

Derek looked over at Stiles. He had that same look on his face from the park. That despairing fury that made his heart ache to see.

Stella turned his chin with her hand until they were looking at each other eye to eye. Derek shifted his feet uncomfortably. Damn, it was hard to meet that gaze. She was pure Alpha-Mom.

"My son did not speak or respond to anyone for almost 72 hours after this funeral. Steven was a wreck wondering if Stiles had a mental breakdown. The only other person that ever put my son into that state since then was _you_, this very evening Mr. Hale."

"Stella…I am so sorry. I had no idea what I was doing…I was just so…I mean, my family and the anniversary and the burning cookies…I just couldn't…"

"I understand the pain you feel. When you pass on and leave others behind, you feel their pain as they mourn you. It's as hard for us as it is for you. But you inflicted _your_ pain on Stiles…and that boy has enough of his own without you adding to it. He is not your punching bag or anyone else's. _Am I clear, Mr. Hale_?"

Derek nodded.

Stella went on. "In his grief over me, my husband no longer celebrates the holidays…Stiles can only relive the happiest moments of his life in memory. He is loved by the McCalls, Mr. Hale but Christmas has only ever made him feel abandoned and alone. He was hoping to end that with you."

"I never knew that this time was so hard for him too."

"Well. Now you know." Stella began to walk away. Derek followed her while trying to look backward at the tableau before the coffin. Steven Stilinski was just noticing that Stiles was almost catatonic. "Son? Stiles? Son?" his voice began to get panicky. Others were going to help him just as Derek and Stella left the building.

As they exited through the front door, Derek was startled to see that they were once more back in his bedroom. Stella was holding a thick jacket that Derek recognized as Stiles'. His throat closed as he thought of the boy out there with no protection, and he chafed at being forced to endure this when he could be finding his mate.

The clock read 12:57.

"Oh, good. Back just in time. I have to go now and sit in suspense until I find out if my son will be spending Christmas morning with me…far earlier than he was supposed to. I leave you with this thought Mr. Hale. As overjoyed as I would be to reunite with him…I will come back and give you an entirely different kind of haunting. But if by chance, everything turns out well, then you might think on celebrating what you have instead of raging over what you don't. If you see Stiles again, tell him to wear this next time he goes out. Merry…Christmas."

Stella walked over to the door to the balcony and turned the knob before being lost in a swirl of snow. Derek ran for the door, but it slammed shut again and held fast. Frustrated, he sat on his bed thought over the things he had seen. There was so much about Stiles he didn't know, even though they had been together for almost a year. The boy never told him any of the things Derek had seen…but Derek knew that he really hadn't shared that much with Stiles either. Stella was right. There was no room for this kind of pain anymore. Derek had to get on with his life…if he still had one to get on with. He was tormented by the image Stiles out there in that snow, and the fury and panic built up in him again. He slammed his fist into the balcony door over and over again. It was like hitting marble, but didn't hurt his hand. The grandfather clock struck one, and before the sound faded Derek was aware of a new presence in the room.

He turned and lurched backward a step as he beheld his Uncle Peter…the previous Alpha.

"Hello, nephew." he said, grinning.

"What do you want, you bastard." Derek snarled.

"Derek…language. I understand you're not happy to see me. If it makes it easier for you, try to think of me as the uncle you remember from before all of this... the man who died in that fire. I was a monster…but I moved past all that pain when I died…when you killed me rather. Now I function in a civil service capacity as the Ghost of Christmas Present. It's thrilling work." Peter looked bored.

"How does the rest of the family look at you? Laura?" Derek insisted. Of all people to act as one of these ghosts, Peter Hale would be at the bottom.

"Laura has forgiven me, as have the rest of the family and in fact all of the people I killed. There really is no place for holding grudges on the other side…you'll see. Except for that Stilinski woman. Boy, she has a mean streak…I can't imagine what she'd be like if she were one of us." Peter shook his head admiringly.

"What are you supposed to show me?" Derek asked, wanting to get on with this. The sooner they finished, the sooner he might be allowed to go hunt for Stiles.

"Why…how others are celebrating their Christmas at this very moment of course!" Peter walked over to the balcony door and opened it, mocking Derek's earlier efforts. Derek followed him eagerly, glad to escape the house and clutching Stiles' jacket. They stepped through into the Beacon Hills police station. The Pack was there, shivering and wrapped in heavy blankets with hot cups of coffee or cocoa in their hands. Sheriff Stilinsky was frantic with worry, he too looked like he was freezing.

"They have just returned from a fruitless search of the woods. In desperation, they revealed their nature to the Sheriff so he wouldn't waste time with tracking dogs. Look at them, Derek. They are freezing…and they're werewolves. I wonder how Stiles must feel, human boy that he is. And Stella said he forgot his coat!"

"SHUT UP!" Derek growled. Still no Alpha shift. Peter just grinned at him.

"Tell me again why he would run out into the woods with no jacket during a snow storm?" the Sheriff demanded.

The Pack looked at each other.

"Something about Christmas getting to him. I think he was upset about your wife, Sheriff." Scott looked nervously at the others.

The Sheriff rubbed his hands through his hair in a gesture eerily similar to Stiles.

"Yeah, this time of year sucks for him. Me too. Guess I'm not helping him by hiding at work. If Derek is supposed to be this bigger tougher werewolf…and I still can't believe all that even though you showed me…why isn't he helping look for Stiles? Doesn't he care? I thought you said Stiles was in your Pack-thingy."

"He doesn't know. He's…hard to reach right now."

"Is he? Well let's see if I can't reach him. I'll pull him out of that house by his collar and whip him through the snow if I have to. My son could already be hypothermic or frostbitten if he didn't find shelter. Let's go."

They bundled up and filed back outside into the snow.

Derek watched them.

"Why did they cover for me? Why didn't they tell him I drove Stiles away?"

Peter smiled. "You never really learned how Packs work, Derek. They are instinctually trying to protect their group integrity. If Stiles is found, they know that the Sheriff would never let him near you again if he knew, and they want Stiles to make that choice himself. They can always tell the Sheriff later. If Stiles is lost…they will want to deal with you themselves. Six angry Betas could take you down, Derek. I was tougher than you, and was destroyed with fewer."

"I'd let them…if I haven't already done the job for them." Derek looked down at the floor.

Peter nodded. "I see. Well, this was a brief visit, on to the next!" Peter led him through the door and into the McCall's living room. Melissa McCall was frantic with worry, pacing back and forth and checking her cell phone every few seconds for messages. She called the hospital to have a bed and medical team ready for Stiles should he be found, and told them they were to notify her instantly if anyone brought him in. She kept looking at a familiar picture in a silver frame…Derek recognized it as the one from the vision of Stiles' childhood, the McCalls and the Stilinski families smiling into the camera.

"Oh, God Stella. I am so sorry…I promised you in that hospital that I would help take care of Steven and Stiles, and now he's gone. He needed you so badly, why did this have to happen?" Melissa started crying into her hands, all the plates of food cold and forgotten.

"Look at all the joy you've managed to spread around, Derek. Nothing like sharing the love, am I right?"

Derek looked at Peter sourly. "I enjoyed Stella more than you…even when she was hitting me."

Peter laughed. "Now, now. I was going to show you Stiles, but if you're going to have an attitude…"

"SHOW ME!" Derek yelled, grabbing Peter by his coat and lifting him off the floor.

Peter grinned down at him. "Very well. Shall we?"

Derek dropped the grinning ghost and followed him through the door. The snow blinded Derek again, and he was barely able to keep up with Peter's retreating form. When Peter finally stopped, Derek looked around unable to see Stiles anywhere.

"WHERE IS HE?" he shouted over the wind.

Peter pointed, and Derek frantically searched until he spotted Stiles standing next to an enormous Mountain Ash tree, shivering uncontrollably but with that same blank expression on his face. Derek tried to grab Stiles, forgetting that he was a ghost and howled in an agony of frustration. Derek watched, stricken, while Stiles slowly unbuttoned his shirt and dropped it to the ground. He wrapped his arms around his thin bare chest and leaned back against the tree sliding down to the ground and just staring straight ahead. The lack of expression was almost as frightening as the skin that was slowly turning blue while Derek watched.

Derek fell to his knees staring helplessly at him and laying the jacket next to him.

"He's given up, Derek. He doesn't even feel the cold anymore. He doesn't feel anything. Soon, very soon now his mother will come to collect him. Then, when he is in that world where our own pain is left behind, will he look back and regret hurting the ones he loved. His friends, his family…and you most of all."

"Uncle Peter…please help me help him. Stella broke the rules, I'm asking you to do the same. Help me…get this jacket to him, or let me give him this robe…or let someone know where he is…something to give him a little more time so he can be saved."

Peter shook his head. "Second chances are not so easy to come by, Derek. Believe me, I know. Sometimes, we have to make our _first_ chances count."

"Please…I'll do anything." Although Derek did not feel the cold from being outside, within his heart seemed to be slowly freezing along with the body of his mate.

"Anything? Anything at all?" Peter looked suddenly interested.

Derek looked at him. "Anything."

"Well I must say…I am rather annoyed at being dead. Would you trade your life to me? I could alter the timeline so that our fates are reversed, but I would need your consent."

"Yes. As long as you promise not to hurt anyone else…yes."

Peter startled Derek by laughing. "I'm sorry, nephew. I really wish I could take you up on that, but I was just kidding. I wanted to see if you really would give up your life for that boy. Now I have my answer. Merry Christmas!"

Peter's laughter faded into the dark night, and Derek got up to run after him. Remembering Stiles, he looked back but could find no trace of him. Frantic, Derek ran and ran until he finally saw his house in the distance. Looking at the house and then back in the direction he had come from, Derek was confident that he could find Stiles once this vision crap was over. But if this followed the story, he had one more ghost to deal with. Christmas future.

Derek shivered involuntarily and made it into the house just at the clock was striking two.

"Good, you're on time. I always thought werewolves were the tardy type. But you always were 'different' than the rest of the Pack, weren't you sweetie?"

The voice sent remembered shocks down through his spine…dear God up above, let it not be _her_ taking him on a tour of some grim future.

He turned to look. There she stood, the Ghost of Christmas future. Kate Argent.


	3. Chapter 3

_**A/N - Thank you guys so much for the amazing reviews! They are what keep me writing, and I love you all! Katydid, I appreciate yours especially, its not often I get a review like that! A little warning, there is some VERY dark stuff in this chapter, and I was almost tempted to change the rating. If anyone feels I should do so, let me know in a PM. Remember this IS Kate, and only the very darkest most twisted things can come from her (thanks to a bravura performance by a wondeful actress). I hope you enjoy! Boy-On-Strings, the feeling is definitely mutual! Safe trip to you and Happy holidays to you all!**_

Kate was dressed all in black, as stunningly beautiful as when she was alive…as when Derek had loved her. The familiar burning of guilt and rage mixing together in his gut came over him.

"I suppose you must be enjoying seeing me suffer. Evil bitch that you were, this must be the closest thing you can get to a Christmas present in Hell." Derek lost all hope that anything could be done to save Stiles at the sight of her…Kate's grin was just too wide.

"Sweetie, no. You think you're suffering now? Oh, baby, I am going to teach you the _real_ meaning of that word."

"I thought that ghosts were supposed to be beyond grudges and pain, Kate."

"And so they are. Unless, like me, one has been _very_ naughty and caused the death of an innocent. Our fate is different…all we _are_ is pain. We get to feel that torment magnified by a thousand for all eternity. Even your stupid uncle only killed lowlifes, so he got away with it. When I took out your family…I guess there were a few innocents in there roasting away like a Thanksgiving turkey. Who knew? Guess I made a teensy little mistake. Now, tonight, we get to see if you will be joining our little club. Stiles was as innocent as they come, Derek baby. And I would love nothing more than to have you down there with me…forever. Now _that_ would be the greatest Christmas present of all time. But enough chit-chat. We have places to go, and people to see."

Kate stepped through front door followed by a wary Derek. They returned once more to the Stilinsky living room. The place was a wreck. Empty bottles of liquor, old pizza boxes and fast food containers littered almost every inch of the floor. The smell was ghastly, and the sight of the Sheriff sent chills down Derek's spine.

Steven Stilinsky had dug out one of the old Christmas trees unused since his wife had died. It looked like it had been decorated by the criminally insane; many of the decorations were shattered or broken but still hung determinedly on every branch. The man had put on a great deal of weight and was dressed in a ratty sweatsuit. Derek noticed a letter from the Mayor informing Steven of his termination as Sheriff of Beacon Hills, alongside a stack of bills with 'Overdue' ink stamps on them. Derek realized that the house had no power; the ex-Sheriff was relying on candlelight. Steven sat in his easy chair with his latest bottle, the framed photograph of the Stilinskys and the McCalls, and Stiles' old teddy bear in his hands. Steven's eyes were red and watery, and it was obvious that he was quite drunk.

Derek and Kate just watched him sit there silently. "What's he doing?" asked Derek quietly, although he knew the man couldn't hear him.

"If I had to guess, I'd say he was working up his nerve." Kate smiled. "Look at that beer gut. No Stiles around to keep him away from the curly fries…and the whiskey. You can guess what happened to the boy in this future, can't you? I don't have to spell it out for you?"

Derek swallowed thickly. "He's d-" He couldn't make himself say the word.

"He's 'duh'? Well that may be true, but he's also DEAD, DEREK! BECAUSE YOU KILLED HIM!" her sudden scream made him jump backward. Kate laughed at him, and he lunged for her. He didn't need the Alpha to take down the cackling she-demon. Kate sidestepped and backhanded him; Derek's momentum carried him towards Steven in his chair, and before he knew it he found himself on top of the older man, sitting in his lap…but Steven was not solid and so Derek sank _into_ him. Derek roared in fear and outrage as he was suddenly subjected to the anguished torment within Steven Stilinsky. The man was broken, _had_ been since his wife passed but able to keep that fountain of grief bottled within him for the sake of his son. Now, it flowed unimpeded and destroyed everything else within him. That river of despair poured through Derek, he was _drowning_ in it. What made it all the more terrifying was the feeling that he too would shortly be in this state if Stiles didn't survive.

Kate (after a sufficient length of time in her book) pulled him none too gently out of the chair, allowing him to collapse on the floor pale and shocked.

Kate leaned over and licked her lips seductively. "This is just the appetizer baby. The main course is next. But we aren't even done here yet. Look!"

Steven moved a magazine on the coffee table to reveal his service-issue revolver. He placed the picture on the table and stared fixedly at it. One hand clutched the teddy bear tightly, the other brought the gun up so the barrel was placed under his chin. Derek tried to turn away, but Kate gripped the sides of his head.

"No no no, I am here to show you visions, and visions you shall receive!" she hissed in his ear.

Steven pulled the trigger, and Derek watched the top of the ex-Sheriff's head come apart as the bullet tore through it. One of the man's legs shook repeatedly in nerve spasm, and the teddy bear dropped from the lifeless hand. The picture on the coffee table was now covered in gore; blood, bits of bone and hair that rained wetly down on it; young Stiles grinning face and a portion of Scott's gap-toothed smile the only parts still visible. Still the leg continued to spasm, knocking into the coffee table, causing the picture to fall over with a bang that made Derek jump. Three lit candles also fell over and rolled off the edge right to the base of the Christmas tree. The flames whooshed up so quickly that Derek leapt backward though he knew it couldn't burn him.

Kate yawned. "Boring…I am so _over_ burning houses. How about you? Let's go, queerwolf. Let's see what the Pack is up to!"

She covered Derek's eyes, and when she took them away, he saw they were in a warehouse. Signs everywhere read 'Whittemore Construction Enterprises: _Building A New Tomorrow…Today!_'.

The Pack was gathered around an enormous cement block. Screams came from it…at least two people were at the Pack's mercy.

Lydia and Allison looked terrible. Their hair lay in tangled messes, and their clothing looked like it came from second-hand stores, with rips and patches everywhere. Ditto for the boys; Scott's hair was wildly overgrown, and he sported a pretty thick beard. Danny and Ted looked haunted, and both had tattoos and piercings all over their bodies. Jackson alone looked as presentable as ever…but his expression was colder than Derek had ever seen it.

Two boys were trapped in the cement block, with only their heads visible. The block itself had a raised lip around the edge as if it were meant to be a very shallow pool. Derek looked at the boys; they seemed vaguely familiar. Both were terrified out of their wits.

"Please! We were kids! Let us go! We never meant for anyone to get hurt!" one of the boys shouted, red-faced and near-hysterical.

"Scott, Jackson…come on, man that was so many years ago! I bet he never even remembered it! Come on, man! It was only _fucking snow!_"

Derek recognized them now. They were the boys that tried to bury Stiles.

"Well _this_ isn't snow, shithead." said Jackson quietly. He pulled a lever. Machinery came to life, and an enormous cement mixer moved slowly into position over the block.

Scott's voice was lifeless. "Thanks, Jack for helping us find them. These are the last two fuckers that messed with Stiles."

"No problem man." Jackson came and stood next to Scott. "Bro…sorry about throwing your inhaler that day. Go ahead. I want you to do it."

Scott looked at Jackson, and nodded. Suddenly, he growled and whipped his clawed hand through the air. Five slashes raked down Jackson's cheek, and he gave a pleasurable growling whine. Scott laughed.

"Masochistic mother-fucker. That might scar you know."

Jackson rubbed his face and looked at the blood on his fingers. "Don't care. That would be a relief."

"Holy shit…what happened to them?" Derek said softly. Kate ignored him, fascinated by the scene before them.

The trapped boys continued to scream as the cement mixer locked into place, a red warning light flashing on the nearby console.

"I want to do it. Stiles loved me. He would want me to do this for him." Lydia growled.

Scott grinned and let her approach the console. She hit the button, and the screams were cut off as the mixer poured liquid cement down on top of the block until it filled up the hollow completely. The boys heads were submerged beneath.

The Pack watched the cement slowly dry for a few minutes before looking around at each other.

"One more party before we go take down Big Bad?" Allison said softly.

"Who's turn is it this time? Jackson was last time…but I think he enjoyed it." Scott asked.

"I want to go. I remember what a stuck-up bitch I was to Stiles. I want you all to make it so that I can never think too much of myself again." Lydia walked over to a corner where an old blood-stained mattress lay on the floor. She started to pull her clothes off, and the others began to do the same. They shifted fully and slowly approached her.

"I think that's enough for this scene. I don't want to have to change the rating!" Kate said blithely. She pulled the stunned Derek away from the increasingly disturbing noises coming from the far end of the warehouse.

They stepped outside into the cold. Derek looked at the warehouse and his mind skittered away from what was going on inside. He had nothing to say. He was absolutely speechless.

"See Derek, how everything we do affects the lives of so many? See how you thought you were the sole character in your own personal story? You didn't realize that _everyone_ has stories…and everyone is in a different place within them. Some are at the beginning, some…are very close to the end. You ended Stiles' story without even getting to know it all, and you completely changed the plot of the stories of those sickos in there. All you cared about was 'poor Derek' and look what happened!"

Derek had no answer. He felt carved out and hollow. "Please Kate. No more."

Kate laughed. "Come on, you know those are my absolute favorite words to hear, ever. Especially from you. We have one last stop, and then I drop you off. I like to think of this as 'the dessert'.

Once again she covered his eyes. They were back in the Hale house, only at some point in the future. The house was a wreck much like Steven's had been, down to the smashed Christmas tree and presents (now under a thick layer of dust). Derek watched, stunned, as a double of himself wandered aimlessly around the house. His future self was wearing Stiles jacket, though it was obviously too small for him. Future-Derek looked around with a haunted expression, then sniffed the air. Leaning down he began to crawl on all fours like a feral animal until he came upon a necklace buried in the dust. It was the necklace that he had yanked off the boys neck that fateful day. Future-Derek studied it, noting the drop of blood on the clasp were it had scratched Stiles. Derek watched himself with sick fascination put the chain into his mouth and suck on it until the blood was gone. Then he went over to the smashed Christmas tree and began to paw through the presents until he found one labeled "To Derek, with Love, Stiles."

Future-Derek tore open the package which turned out to be a box with a DVD inside and a framed picture. Stiles had done some amazing photo-shop work. An old picture of the Hale family that had gone missing (apparently purloined by Stiles) now featured a gathering that had never happened in real life. The Hales stood in front of the old home during a long ago Christmas, the house festooned with lights. Standing next to them were images of the entire Pack, along with Mrs. McCall, Steven and Stella Stilinsky, and right next to the 12 year old Derek in the picture was a grinning 12 year old Stiles. If Derek didn't know better, he would have thought the picture was authentic. Engraved in the frame along the bottom were the words in elegant scripted lettering: "The Most Perfect Christmas Ever".

A low growling painful moan-howl came from both Derek and Future-Derek at the same time. Kate rolled her eyes. "Werewolf angst…in stereo."

Future-Derek got up and staggered over to the wall unit that contained his television. He popped in the DVD and sat down on the two-seater couch he once shared with Stiles and watched the scene that appeared. It was from the Christmas where Stiles was six. He had just given his parents the picture.

"Hang it up! Hang it up!" shouted Stiles.

A brick suddenly smashed the television screen. Both Dereks looked around and saw the Pack standing in the foyer. All of them had blood on their faces and hands.

"You heard Stiles. Let's hang him up!" growled Scott. The other five rushed Future-Derek and grabbed him, tearing off the jacket. The Alpha did not struggle, just let the Betas do what they would. Scott pulled out a long coiled length of rope from a ratty old bag labeled "Stiles' Bag of Spectacular Christmas Surprises!" and began to unwind it. Scott didn't seem to notice that his hands were smoking as he did so.

"Got a real special Christmas present for you, Alpha my Alpha! This rope has got all the good stuff. Aconite flowers, Mountain Ash splinters and silver wire all rolled into one! Stiles once asked me if I thought you were descended from Nathan Hale, and shared that you were 'pretty well-hung'. Well, wait until we get through with you."

Scott got the rope unwound, the end already fashioned into a noose. He wrapped it around the still not-struggling neck of Future-Derek and began to drag him up the stairs. The Alpha strangled in the rope, eyes bulging but still making no real move to free himself. Kate pushed Derek up the stairs following after the Pack until they reached Derek's bedroom. Scott tied the other end of the rope expertly to the balcony and the Pack helped him heave the doomed Alpha onto the railing.

"You know sweetie, I think for this part you really need a front row seat." whispered Kate. She shoved Derek into his own future body, and if Derek thought being in the Sheriff's head was bad…being in the head of his future self was absolutely unbearable. The misery and self-hatred were living creatures that tore at his soul. No wonder there was no struggle. He was surprised Future-Derek wasn't thanking them for their mercy.

The Pack pushed as one and Derek felt the vertigo of falling followed by the bone wrenching snap of his neck as the rope pulled taut. Present-Derek continued falling while his future self remained swinging from the end of the rope, landing on the front steps of the house. He gazed up at his own swinging corpse. Scott looked down, his amber eyes flashing red as he absorbed Derek's Alpha position in the Pack.

Derek stood up and entered the house again as the Pack descended the stairs and took cans of gasoline from the enormous bag that once held presents. They poured it all over the drapes and wood furniture while Scott pulled a Zippo lighter out of his pocket.

They filed out of the house as Scott flicked the lighter and tossed it on the couch. Flames roared up, and the very first thing to be consumed was the photo that Stiles had given Derek.

Derek watched the faces blacken. He turned dead eyes to Kate who was now descending the stairs.

"All right. You've shown me everything. Let me go find him." his voice was dull and lifeless.

"ANOTHER burning house? Can you ever escape them, sweetie? Well, I'm sorry to say honey but there is nothing you can do. He's already dead. This future is already written. All you need to do when I send you back is kill yourself. The Pack won't feel the need to go vigilante and you get to be dead with your lost honey. The best part is that he'll forgive you, so don't hesitate to go to him. Ready?"

Derek nodded.

Kate snapped her fingers and the flames disappeared, the house returning to the state Derek left it in.

She had the coiled rope from the future in her hands and handed it silently to Derek.

"It's a little against the rules…but here you are. Don't say I've never done anything for you!" Kate smiled and patted Derek on the back.

The clock struck three. Derek went to his bedroom and opened the door to the balcony easily. He tied the rope much as Scott had done and draped it around his own neck, his flesh burning from the contact. He walked over to the balcony and looked down, closing his eyes.

'_Stiles. Please be there for me._' he thought fiercely. He leaned forward.

"Just what do you think you are doing Mr. Hale?" came a familiar voice. Derek turned to see Stella Stilinsky standing there in her Christmas apron.

"I'm…uh, I'm…" he stammered.

"You're being a horse's ass is what you're doing. Why would I have shown you all of that if I wanted you to kill yourself?"

"Let him do it, you old cow! This is _my_ time with him!" called Kate, furious.

Stella slowly turned to regard the other spirit. "Kate, is it? You're one of the lost souls aren't you? You tried to kill Derek here, who my son happens to love and burned his family…my friends…alive? In a way, you're responsible for all of this, aren't you?" Stella walked towards Kate who backed up swiftly. "Can I give you a small piece of advice?" Derek heard Stella say.

There was a roaring explosion from within the room. Derek tore the rope off and went inside. The room was untouched, but Kate was gone, except for a small pile of black clothing on the floor.

"Don't do that again." said Stella softly. She looked at Derek. "Now this is breaking a major rule." Stella faced Derek's clock. Pointing her finger at it, she began to slowly twirl it in a counter-clockwise fashion. The hands of the clock followed suit, spinning backward until it was just after Derek had gone to bed.

"I wish I could take you back to before he ran away, but my power only extends this far. You get in trouble with grandfather paradoxes and all of that, a terrible mess to unwind. Now, I am giving you a second chance, Mr. Hale. I want you find my son, save his life, and if you ever make him even the slightest bit unhappy again, I will come back and give you an experience that will make the Amityville Horror look like a Scooby-Doo cartoon. Am I understood?"

Derek nodded dumbly.

"Good. Now get in bed and close your eyes." She watched Derek obey. "Merry Christmas!" she said softly, clapping her hands.

{}{}{}{}

Derek shot upright in his bed. He had gone to bed naked, but was surprised to see that he was wearing his robe. The scent of burned cookies hit his nose, and the dream came back to him full force. Derek tore off the covers and raced downstairs, flinging open the door in time to see Stiles' Jeep with Scott driving racing away into the night. Derek gave a fleeting glance to the destroyed Christmas tree before tearing the robe from his body and running out into the snow storm, the change twisting his body into that of an enormous furry wolf. Derek tore off in the direction he remembered Stiles being, hoping against hope that he would be on time.


	4. Chapter 4

_**A/N – Once again, thank all of you who took the time to review, I am really happy you enjoyed and your words are the greatest Christmas present I could receive. Thanks for sticking with this until the end!**_

The Alpha raced through the primordial snow storm, in desperate pursuit of its prey. It stopped here and there to check its location, catching hints of the tantalizing scent in the wind. Footprints (and pawprints) disappeared as soon as they were made, so powerful was the fierce winter wind. But the wolf was determined; on this night of all nights it would not be denied its objective. The elements battered at the wolf, attempted to instill the bone freezing cold deep into its soul. The wolf ignored it. If it failed tonight, it wouldn't need the wind to freeze its heart.

A tingling, burning scent penetrated its awareness; the wolf growled in dismay. Mountain Ash. There were a few of the magical trees on the property still, an ancient precaution against those of its kind, planted by settlers who still carried the old legends with them. Anytime two of the trees stood within a few feet of each other, the wolf had to struggle to pass through the space between them. By the time it caught the thick cloud of scent that marked Stiles' resting place, the Alpha was unable to approach any further. Stiles was sitting in a small ring of the trees, leaning against the largest one. His shirt lay on the ground while he stared straight ahead at nothing. He ignored the wind and snow and cold, and he ignored the huge and monstrous wolf that lurked outside the ring struggling to get through a wall of combined fire and lightning that pricked at its hide with painful lances.

The Alpha howled mournfully. Stiles did not move. It growled and snarled. Still nothing. The wolf backed away and charged at the boy; there was a low key _zapping_ sound, and the wolf was hurled backwards, it's fur singed. The Alpha righted itself and growled at the trees that were keeping it from its mate. They were no barrier to him during his ghostly visit, but now they were a lethal obstacle. It began to panic. It had to reach the boy somehow, to where he had retreated deep within his mind. The wolf calmed its own racing heart…and willed its human self to return.

It didn't want to go. Survival instinct was powerful in the beast, and it knew its human form would be in danger from the cold. Nonetheless, iron will won out and the wolf shuddered through the reverse transformation. Soon, Derek returned crouched on all fours in the freezing snow, his body heat already being whipped away by the wind.

"S-s-s-tiles! S-s-snap out of i-it! I'm s-s-orry! P-p-p-lease! I c-can't g-g-g-et to y-you! Y-y-ou h-ave to c-c-ome t-to m-me!"

Stiles sat still.

Derek growled, eyes flashing red and the Alpha threatening to return. Derek slammed it down and made it gone. If he were going to do this, it would be easier in human form. Slightly.

He placed his hands against the nearly insubstantial barrier and pushed. It felt like pushing his hands into flame, but with none of the warmth…only the pain. Derek screamed and pushed harder. The searing pain traveled up his arms as the magic of the wood fought whatever forces gave power to those of Derek's line. Despite his efforts to stay human, the flash of crimson eyes, the brief emergence of fangs and claws punctuated each step he made. Soon his body was wreathed in the cold flames as the two magics fought. Had Derek still been a Beta, the fight would have been over and he outside and likely unconscious. But the Alpha was a different matter altogether. Derek pushed relentlessly, devoting his entire being to the struggle; he became nothing more than the act itself, a mindless force brutally moving forward against all possibility. Finally, with what sounded like a tremendous tearing, he penetrated the barrier completely and lay at Stiles feet panting. And Stiles moved. The boy stood up slowly, his face still blank as he turned away from Derek and moved to pick something up from the snow.

"Stiles…" whispered Derek, weak and freezing. He was too weak even to call the Alpha back, he would need a few minutes to rest.

"Stiles isn't here anymore, fucker." came a strange voice. Derek looked around trying to see who spoke, but there was no one else. Confused, Derek looked back at the boy who was now holding a thick branch in his hands. Standing there bare-chested in the snow, he looked like some strange undernourished barbarian. His dark eyes seemed completely black.

The not-voice came again. "You threw me out into the snow…like a bag of trash. Like I was _nothing_. Let me give you a little piece of advice…_don't do that again!" _

Stiles roared as he brought the branch down through the air and slammed it into Derek's bare chest. The branch was Mountain Ash, and in Stiles' hands, it was a lethal weapon. Derek screamed from the impact, dimly remembering Kate's old electroshock machine. This felt ten times worse.

"Do you know how I felt about you? Do you? Do you know what you did to me? _This_ is what you did, you _bastard!_"

Stiles lifted the branch again and brought it down once more. Derek barely got his arm up in time; at the blow, the arm fell numb and useless to his side.

"Stiles! Stop! You're going to kill me!"

The third blow struck, and Derek's other arm was out of commission. No way to defend himself now.

"Stiles…please…I love you…we're going to spend Christmas…together every year…I want my whole life…to be with you!" Derek felt his own tears freezing on his cheeks as he realized the man he loved was about to murder him…which would insure Stiles own death shortly afterward.

Stiles lined the branch up carefully, intending to bring it down directly on Derek's face. The boy was shivering badly now, only the fury and adrenalin pumping through him kept him from succumbing to the bitter cold. Derek glanced to his left and noticed Stiles' jacket lying in the snow. How had it gotten there?

"Your M-Mom says she wants you to wear your jacket when you go outside…" Derek felt the siren call of sleep…and more than sleep… tug gently at his conscious mind.

Stiles blinked at the mention of his mother. He looked confused, and rubbed his head. "What did you say? What about my Mom?"

"J-jacket…" Derek stammered, struggling to point with his useless arm.

Stiles dropped the branch as in a trance and picked up the jacket, examining it before obediently zipping himself into it. Derek suddenly noticed that the festive Christmas-themed pattern on the back was the same as the one on Stella's apron. Stiles rubbed his head again, still blinking rapidly. Looked like Stella broke another rule.

"Derek? What the hell happened? What are we doing out here? Why are you lying naked in the snow? Derek? Derek!"

Derek's eyes were closed, and he felt a blissful gentle warmth taking over his body.

Stiles slapped him across the face, rousing him to full consciousness.

"What the….Stiles? Oh, God, Stiles is that you? Are you all right?" Joy ripped its way through Derek's heart to see Stiles back to his usual self. Strength began to pour back into his limbs as he thought he might really be able to save his mate.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Freezing to death, but fine. And while this scene would be totally hot in the spring or summer, I'm not feeling it at all in winter. And I mean that, I'm not feeling anything at all if you get my drift." Stiles held up hands that sported blackened fingertips, the telltale marks of advanced frostbite. "You need to transform and get us back to the house!"

"It's no use. I'm going to try to change, but only to howl and let the Pack know where you are. They might be in the woods by now with your Dad. I'm too weak to get out of this ring of trees…they're Mountain Ash. I may as well be in a cage."

Stiles watched the change rip through Derek with the same fascination he always felt, and with a total lack of fear as the great beast raised its head to the invisible sky and howl as if trying to end the world with its voice. The crimson eyes bored into him. Somewhere in those hellfire depths was the man he loved.

"Derek…I love you so much…" he stroked the great jaws with his numb hand. He wondered if Derek would give him a ring. Not that he was going to have much in the way of fingers once he got to the hospital…

Stiles heard Derek growl low in his throat and then lunge forward snapping his jaws closed on Stiles wrist.

"Ow! Hey! What did you do that for? Now I'm gonna be a freaking werewolf! Oh, shit! Derek! I'm gonna be a freaking werewolf! That's so awesome! What a great Christmas present!"

The great beast whined and licked gently at the blood flowing from Stiles wrist. The heat coming from the Alpha was amazing, and Stiles curled himself up next to Derek, rubbing his insensate hands through the thick fur while he waited and hoped for help to come. Together, the beast and the boy rested under the tight canopy of trees that both imprisoned them and protected them from falling snow. Every now and then, Derek would give out another howl. The fifth time he did so, they heard an answering howl back. An unknowable amount of time later, they heard the first voice.

"They're here! I found them!" Jackson was the first to reach the ring of trees that housed Derek and Stiles. Stiles, completely numb and sleepy, looked at them blearily before shooting to his feet. Jackson was fully shifted, amber eyes in his handsome face beaming as he gave them a fanged grin.

"Jackson, am I glad to see you!" Stiles tried to run to his friend but was promptly knocked backward by the invisible force the trees generated. "Wow! Did you see that! Jackson, guess who's in the werewolf club!" Stiles grinned and waved with frozen arms at Jackson, who goggled at him before letting loose a howl to rival the Alpha's.

Jackson pulled out his phone and ripped off one glove with his fangs while he tapped out a short message with his claws. He pocketed the phone and tossed both gloves to Stiles for his hands. Stiles put them on with difficulty just as Scott and Allison arrived. They tested the barrier of the trees, helpless to do anything but watch and wait. Derek acknowledged them with a short growl.

"So you went out and found him. That's good, Derek, only he never would have gone out if you hadn't-" Scott began, looking pissed.

Derek gave a loud warning bark that shut Scott up instantly.

"What are you guys talking about? I don't even know how I got out here!" Stiles looked from Jackson to Scott who shared a silent communication before shrugging.

"Long story. Let's get you home first." Jackson sniffed and turned to see Danny, Ted Lydia and the Sheriff approach. Steven Stilinsky held a giant chainsaw, and the young Betas backed away to give him room to work. He took in the sight of the transformed Derek, and Stiles leaning happily against the huge wolf's side.

"Holy Mary Mother of God." he breathed. "Stiles, can't you come out?"

Stiles rapped one gloved hand against the invisible barrier, and the Sheriff jumped back at the loud crackle.

"Okay then. This is shaping up to be the weirdest Christmas ever!" All the Betas and the Sheriff jumped as the great wolf made a bizarre growling repetitive noise they never heard before and likely never would again…the sound of a transformed Alpha laughing.

It took the Sheriff twenty minutes to cut down the smallest tree, which provided enough of a gap that both Stiles and Derek were able to make it through. The Sheriff grabbed Stiles and insisted on carrying him to the ambulance that was waiting at the end of the Hale road. The paramedics quickly put Stiles on a stretcher while Derek watched from the woods. It was hard to watch his mate go without him, and he howled again into the winter storm. Somewhere in his house, he heard the grandfather clock strike one. Christmas was officially an hour old, but Derek felt he had already gotten the best present possible. The Betas remained behind while the Sheriff rode to the hospital with Stiles. They watched Derek regain his human form, and they followed him into the house. Derek put on his robe and turned the heat on full blast before pouring himself a steaming hot cup of coffee.

The group looked at each other and then all looked at Scott. He nodded.

"What you did to him…"

"What I did to him was between Stiles and myself. I'm touched by your concern, Scott, but frankly it's none of your business!"

"None of my…?" Scott lost it and went for Derek, shifting in half a second. Derek turned and easily caught the young Beta by the throat and slammed him into the wall.

"You dare? You dare defy me, the Alpha of this Pack?" Derek's eyes flashed crimson. The rest of the Pack backed up, terrified. Scott looked evenly into Derek's eyes.

"Yes…you hurt him again and I'll…kill you…" he gasped out. The fear smell that surrounded the other Betas was completely absent from Scott.

Derek smiled and let Scott down. The Beta rubbed his neck and looked confused.

"You're not gonna kill me for that?" he asked in a rough voice.

"Kill the toughest Beta in my Pack, who had the balls to stand up to me for his Pack mate? I wouldn't dream of it. Scott, an Alpha has to work for the good of the Pack. Stiles almost came to great harm because of me…and I can't say how I know this, but it would have destroyed all of you too. If I do that again, then I have no right to be Alpha. I want you all to take me down…and try to make Stiles understand why it was necessary. If I have any say in the matter, it will never happen…but just in case. Now, because Stiles is mine, and a werewolf, he will have the same authority over the rest of you that I have. But Scott…should I ever need to be killed…I want you to be the one to become Alpha, because you're the strongest and because you care about the Pack. You will need to be the one to take my life. Am I understood?"

Scott nodded, still confused. He became downright alarmed when Derek pulled him into a fierce hug and terrified when he realized Derek was crying silently into his shoulder. Feeling like he stepped into the Twilight Zone, Scott stroked Derek's back and was soon joined by the Pack in a giant group hug.

"Um…there there?" Scott said uncertainly.

Derek, still red in the face pulled each of the other members of the Pack into their own hug, and each had different reactions. Allison started to cry herself, Lydia blushed furiously, Jackson resisted for about two seconds and then became the aggressor squeezing Derek almost painfully.

"Um…Jackson…Jackson you can let go now!" Derek said softly. Lydia rolled her eyes while Danny and Ted smirked.

Danny's hug was brief and formal, like a fellow soldier, while Ted was gentle, almost as if afraid Derek would break.

"Thank you guys for not telling the Sheriff what an ass I was tonight. I promise all of you, that I will make this up to Stiles every day of my life. He doesn't remember it, and I can only thank the gods for that."

"H-how did you know we didn't tell the Sheriff?" Scott asked.

"Well, one reason I know is because he didn't shoot me on sight." Derek carefully hedged. It was true as far as it went, but Derek would take the other reason to his grave.

Derek got dressed in fresh warm clothes and sent the Pack out into the night once more to see Stiles at the hospital. If Stiles was going to recover as fast as Derek thought he would, then there was little time to waste.

Melissa and Steven were in the waiting room when the Pack arrived, the two adults holding hands and laughing with tears in their eyes. Stiles was recovering nicely…the doctor thought Stiles might have had frostbite and was preparing to amputate fingers and toes, but a second examination showed that the flesh had returned to a healthy pink color. He had never seen anything like it, he told the Sheriff. The Pack all hugged Stiles and congratulated him on getting turned. "Your ass is mine during the next training session!" Scott threatened jokingly.

"You can't have my ass, its Derek's. I've even got a tattoo that says so!" Stiles quipped back. "Speaking of which…I'm gonna come out to my Dad guys. Can I get some alone time with him?"

"Sure thing, see you back at Derek's!" Scott told him. They wished him luck and trooped out just as the Sheriff was returning from the talk with the doctor.

Stiles was officially released, and the Sheriff was getting ready to take him back to their home when Stiles turned red and said "I want to go back to Derek's, Dad."

"Son, why? I know he rescued you, but the… man… is probably exhausted and frankly I'm a little nervous at you being around someone who can turn into that thing….Holy Mary Mother of God!"

Stiles had shifted into Beta phase for the first time.

"Dad, Derek rescued me because I'm…_with_ him. He turned me tonight because of the frostbite…but I've been with him for a year. I'm moving in with him when I graduate. Don't worry, I'm still going to college!"

The Sheriff sat down in a chair.

"Son…geez, did you have to lay all of this on me in one night? Werewolves and boyfriends and moving out and almost getting killed…I'm not sure I can take anymore! I thought I lost you, and I won't sleep tonight if you are anywhere but under the same roof as me!"

"That's fine, Dad. Come with me. Derek has lots of room. Invite Melissa too, and I know the Pack…my friends… will be there. _But we will…be celebrating…Christmas!"_

The Sheriff wanted to argue, but the guilt he felt at Stiles running out into the snow over the yearly grief in their home convinced him to shut his mouth and just nod…the same way he used to nod at Stella when she put her foot down about something.

"Boy's becoming more like her every day!" he thought…and shuddered.

{}{}{}{}

When the Pack arrived back at the house, they were amazed at the work Derek had done. Lights festooned the front of the home and some of the closer trees, while large images of snowmen and Santa with his sleigh dotted the lawn. The destroyed tree had been replaced along with all of the damaged decorations. Derek had raided all of the old storage bins from the basement that had survived the fire. Any evidence of the mess made by the Alpha was gone; Derek had even repaired Stiles' necklace which he placed in a Christmas stocking for Stiles until he arrived, along with a ton of candy. The Alpha himself was bustling about the kitchen in a cute Christmas themed apron the Pack had never seen before, but which Steven and Stiles Stilinsky would have recognized at once. He was on his third tray of gingerbread cookies and had about nine more waiting to go in. Melissa joined them after returning home to pack up the massive quantities of food she had cooked for the boys. The food was reheated and laid out for a middle-of-the-night Christmas feast that made both Stiles and the Sheriff cheer when they walked through the door together.

During the dinner, both Steven and Melissa were impressed by the camaraderie the group possessed, and how they all deferred to Derek, and to a degree Stiles as the formal and informal leaders of their group. Steven was still torn up at the idea of Stiles moving out, but he had known it would happen one day. He looked on the bright side that Stiles would remain in Beacon Hills, and extremely close by at that. Looking at Melissa over his third glass of wine, he wondered for the fiftieth time if he should ask her out. With the boys on their own, it might actually work out. From the way her eyes met his…he had the idea she was having similar thoughts.

The entire Pack noticed the change in Derek over the course of the night. The formerly brooding and short tempered Alpha seemed to have buried whatever darkness lay within him since his family was lost, and laughed easily with the younger Betas. No sign of the just-under-the-surface anger or ever-present impatience remained. His open and easy affection for Stiles in the form of one-armed hugs, squeezed hands and even spoon-feeding each other their food convinced them one and all that Stiles would be well cared for and well-loved forever.

Stiles insisted that Derek open his present before they went to bed, leaving the rest for when they woke up. Derek pretended to be surprised, although genuine tears did roll down his face at the sight of the framed picture of all the united families.

"Hang it up! Hang it up!" Stiles begged, puzzled by the shudder that passed through Derek's body at the words.

Stiles put the DVD in the player and the gang watched the video of Stiles' sixth Christmas, and Derek got his wish to see it play out in full, denied earlier by both Stella and Scott. They all exclaimed at L'il Stiles and his antics, except for the Sheriff and his son, who just looked quietly at the video of Stella with tears rolling down their cheeks. Derek and the Betas retired to their bedrooms, while Melissa and Steven stayed up a while longer, re-watching the video and reminiscing about Stella. They too went to bed separately (for now) and all was quiet in the home until the sun came up.

A seventeen year old Stiles Stilinsky came quietly down and beheld the early morning light coming in through the window. He wore Scooby-Doo boxers, one hand clutched a box of crayons and the other some construction paper, the very last items from the Spectacular Bag of Christmas Surprises. He sat down at the table and began to draw a picture for Derek. It showed the Alpha in his wolf form sitting next to a smiling stick figure Stiles in the middle of a ring of trees. For some reason, he decided to include his mother hovering over them as an angel with white wings and a Christmas themed robe. He stuck it to the fridge with a magnet, put away his crayons and paper, and went back up the stairs to curl next to a deeply sleeping Derek.


	5. Chapter 5

_**A/N – I have had a few PMs saying that for all the crap Derek went through for Stiles (although he had it coming, the big jerk), there needed to be a bit more fluff/lemon, and some wanted me to 'flesh out' Ted's character. So this chapter will take place a year later when Derek gets a chance to plan ahead. A warning: you will die of sugar shock from all the sweetness in this long-ass chapter.**_

Part 1: Driving

The phone rang while Derek had several lengths of freshly untangled Christmas lights in each hand and one clenched in his fangs, as he teetered on top of a twelve foot ladder.

"Ackson, an oo et uh reaking rone?" Derek growled around the lights.

Jackson was hanging stockings from the chimney with care, and the earbuds of his iPod blocked out even his sensitive wolf hearing. Derek snarled and cast about for Lydia. One sniff told him she was in the basement going through some of the remaining Christmas storage bins. Danny was shopping for food, Allison was buying a last minute gift and Scott was on his way to pick up Stiles from college since Stiles' beloved Jeep had died the final death a few weeks before.

"Uuuuuuuck!" screamed Derek around the lights.

At that minute the door opened, and Ted walked in from where he had been setting up the Christmas displays outside, brushing snow out of his short dark hair.

"I don't know what you said, Derek…but it didn't sound very Christmasy." He walked over to the phone and picked it up, clicking it over to speaker when he saw the id.

"Hey guys, it's me! Merry Christmas!" came the voice of Stiles.

"Eye runny!" yelled Derek.

"Sorry about that Derek, didn't know you could get sick." said Stiles, concerned.

Derek gave up and spat out the lights dropping the whole mess to the carpet. He climbed down the ladder . "I _said_ 'Hi honey.' What's up? Scott's not there yet?"

"He just got here. I wanted to know if one of you could pick up my Dad and Scott's Mom from the airport. Their flight was delayed and they're both exhausted, but my Dad's the stubborn type and is insisting he can drive. I just worry, you know…"

"No problem. I should still be back two hours before you. Lydia memorized an entire cookbook so she'll have a feast ready for us when you get here."

"Awesome! And thanks, Der. Love you, lots and missed you like hell. Missed all of you." Stiles sounded choked up.

"Same here…I'll head out now. See you soon." They hung up and Derek gave an irritated look at Jackson who was still be-bopping to Adele's latest CD even though the stockings were hung and filled to the brim.

Derek yanked the earbuds out.

"I'm going to the airport, airhead. Untangle those lights and string them up, and put the same effort you do into Lacrosse…I want it to be _perfect_ for Stiles."

Jackson looked at him expectantly.

"What?" asked Derek.

"C'mon…just say it for old time's sake." Jackson was grinning.

Derek rolled his eyes. "Okay. Do it or I'll rip your throat out…with my teeth. You satisfied?"

"Man, I miss that so much!"

"Freak. Ted, come with me? I'm going to need someone to drive their car back."

Ted agreed, and Derek grabbed his leather coat before heading out to the car with the younger boy.

They got on the road, taking it slow due to the ice that the salt trucks seemed powerless to get rid of.

Unlike every single other member of the Pack, Ted was the sort that could just sit there quietly lost in his thoughts…except that after nearly two years with Stiles, the silence was almost unbearable for the Alpha.

"So…what's been happening? How are you and Danny getting along?" asked Derek when he thought he would go crazy if he didn't have a conversation. God, Stiles had rubbed off on him in a big way.

"Oh, great. He's the best, and his mother treats me like her own son."

Derek nodded, pleased. His Pack's happiness was very important to him.

"How about your folks? I never heard you talk about them."

Ted tensed up, and Derek heard his heartbeat increase slightly. "They're not worth talking about. They basically cut me out of their life when I came out. I tried a few times to re-connect, but they started to get really...let's just say _insistent_ that I stop trying. I get the idea that they're ashamed of me." He flicked his green-eyed gaze towards the passenger window, perhaps to admire the light snowfall. Perhaps not.

Derek wished he had taken the advice he'd given to Stiles so many times when he first met the quirky teen and just _shut the hell up._ The last thing he wanted to do was upset Danny's mate.

"Hey, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to pry. From what I've seen…it's their loss. I've never seen anyone adapt so well to being in a Pack, and you're a lot like Stiles in that you care about others so much more than yourself. I don't think I could have stood another Jackson."

Ted laughed. "Jackson's not so bad when you get to know him. He's pretty insecure about himself, for no reason, and he feels like he's under a lot of pressure to be the best at everything. He's come a long way in the past year, and that's all because of you."

Derek blushed slightly at the unexpected compliment. "I wasn't fishing… but thanks."

"The Pack is everyone's second family…but Jackson and me, we feel like it's our first. I will never stop being grateful to you for taking me into your home and helping me get a job…and most of all letting me into the Pack. I've never had anyone look out for me like you did."

Derek's face heated up even more. "Stop it, man. I just gave you a shot…you're doing really well at your job, and I've never seen anyone help out around the house like you do…which I've never asked you to do by the way."

"I like to do it…and you won't let me pay you rent from my check. Someone has to keep after Stiles anyway; Scott tells me the Board of Health just condemned his dorm room."

Now Derek laughed. "Well, I don't know what plans you and Danny have for the future, but no matter what happens you always have a home with me. As one of my Betas, I'll always feel responsible for you…that means come to me with any problem and I will help you."

"Same goes for me Derek…not that I think you would ever need help with anything, but if you ever did, just ask. You won't get questions or arguments from me."

"I wish you could pour some of that into Scott. He'd argue with me if I told him to breathe."

They fell into silence again, and Derek noticed that while there was little traffic going to the airport, all of the opposite lanes seemed to be congested. He ground his teeth at the thought that he might not be home when Stiles arrived, but it was important to Stiles that his father make it home safely so Derek just had to deal.

They pulled into the parking lot and went to the gate for arriving flights, locating the one coming from Hawaii where Steven and Melissa went for their honeymoon. The older couple did indeed look exhausted. Ted and Derek took charge of their suitcases, and packed them into Melissa's station wagon. Ted got behind the wheel with Melissa in the passenger seat which she promptly leaned as far back as it would go and passed out.

Derek opened the passenger door of the Camaro for Steven before getting behind his own wheel. Derek thought Steven would fall asleep as well, but the older man was looking more awake by the second.

"Merry Christmas, Derek." Steven said quietly.

"Merry Christmas, Sheriff." Derek said awkwardly.

"You can call me Steven, son."

'Son?' thought Derek to himself. This was new. "Thanks…Steven. How was your honeymoon?"

"Let's just say I'm a little concerned about how I'm going to pay the medical bills for the melanoma I'm going to have in six months."

Derek chuckled. "Send them to me. It can't be any higher than Stiles' food bill."

"Or his college bill. Thanks for that, by the way. He got some scholarships, but that would never have covered the room and board. I could have paid if he'd gone to school locally…"

"It's no trouble. I had a college fund that I never wound up using since…well, family stuff. Besides, you had a wedding and honeymoon to pay for. Stiles is a man now, and you've done a great job with him. We don't want for anything, and you need to enjoy your life now. You earned it."

"Ahhhh this time of year always gets to me. I've grown to love Mel so much, but I still miss Stella…especially now. This was her favorite time."

"I know. Um, Stiles told me." Derek covered himself.

"Derek, I'll be frank with you. I had a hard time with you at first, you know. First off, you were a male…well, that wasn't exactly a surprise…Danny needs to teach Stiles how to clear his web history. Second, you were older. Not a lot, but slightly outside of social expectations with him being seventeen. Stiles told me that…er, you two were taking things slow. I didn't think you were a predator or anything…" They both chuckled. "…well, not _that_ kind of predator. Then the werewolf thing…" Steven shook his head.

"Melissa didn't take the news well. It's a very good thing for you that your uncle was the one that bit him, Derek. And we were both concerned that you brought all the others in."

"Steven, one and all they asked for it, for different reasons. Even Stiles wanted it, although I refused until I realized he had frostbite. He would have lost fingers if I hadn't turned him. As a human, you won't find it easy to understand; this life can be a difficult thing but not always a bad thing. It's a lot of power, and a lot of responsibility…and Stiles is doing really well with it. I'm not looking to bring anyone else in, but I'm making sure each one of them fulfills their potential. They're going to do great things someday. Especially Stiles."

Steven nodded. "My main worry was that Stiles was going to get hurt. I had a long talk with the Argents. I informed them that the Lycan residents of Beacon Hills were under _my_ supervision and protection, and I made them understand how _upset_ I would be if any of their group went within a mile of any of you."

Derek wished he could have been a fly on the wall at _that_ meeting. Chris and Vivian and all of their Hunter flunkies actually pulled out altogether from Beacon Hills, selling their house and leaving Allison to live with Scott (now that she was eighteen) while they went to the local university. Generations of werewolves had failed to get rid of the Hunter family so efficiently; it made Derek respect the Sheriff more than he did…and fear him a little. Steven Stilinsky obviously had scarier threats than Derek on his worst day.

"I will never hurt him, if you're thinking that. I also know that if I did, I would live exactly as long as it took you to find me…and I feel the same way. I would kill to protect him, and I would give my life for him if necessary."

"I believe that, now, and that's why I started calling you son. I really think he's going to make something of himself with you being there for him."

The congestion cleared up and they took the Beacon Hills exit from the highway and minutes later they were turning onto the Sheriff's block. Just as they completed the turn, one of the back tires blew out and Derek cursed as he pulled into the spot behind the station wagon. He got out, and pulled a rusty piece of metal from the ruins of his tire.

The Sheriff came over and looked at it, whistling. Derek opened his trunk and pulled out the spare.

"Need a jack? I don't see one in there." asked Steven.

"Nah. Hey, Ted, can you come out here a minute?" Derek said conversationally.

"Ted's in the house, Derek." The Sheriff said, cocking an eye at the lycan.

"He heard me." Derek advised him.

Ted came out and quickly took in the situation. "Lift or twist?" he asked.

"I'll lift. You twist." Derek tossed the spare tire to him, walked over to the rear of the car and lifted it from the pavement, the Beta features appearing while he did so. "Holy Mary…" the Sheriff said, not for the first or last time. Derek decided not to tell him that in Alpha phase he could probably toss the car into his neighbor's yard. Ted spun the lug nuts off the tires like they were bottlecaps, stuck the new tire on and replaced them just as fast. Derek let the car back down gently and threw the flat into the trunk before going to help Ted with the remainder of the bags. The Sheriff just stood there looking at the new tire before sighing and going into the house.

Melissa was refreshed from her power nap in the car and quickly washed up and changed while the Sheriff did the same. She packed the presents from under their Christmas tree for the trip to Derek's into the station wagon before getting behind the wheel. The Sheriff rode with her while Ted joined Derek once again in the Camaro.

"How was she?" Derek asked.

"She snored the entire way." They both laughed.

Part 2: The Gifts

Derek was delighted to see that Scott and Stiles hadn't got there yet, although they were due any minute. The rest of the Pack were back and Danny came over to give Ted a hug. All presents were placed under the tree (Jackson had done an incredible job with the lights…he would live another day) and all last minute preparations were made. Derek went upstairs to the master bedroom to change. The tantalizing aromas of the two 30 lb. turkeys, biscuits, steamed vegetables and about a dozen other different foods nearly made him ruin his outfit as the Alpha roared its hunger into his mind.

'Easy boy. Soon.' Derek thought to his inner companion.

He heard Scott's Mustang pull into the driveway, and it took all of his willpower not to race downstairs. Instead he slowly made his way to the top of the stairs as the front door opened and Scott walked in, grinning and dusted with snow. He stomped his shoes on the mat and heaved some of Stiles' suitcases into the foyer. Allison gave him a hug and took his coat while he struggled out of his boots. Ted trucked the suitcases up the stairs to the bedroom, Derek giving him an appreciative pat on the shoulder as he walked by. Scott turned around to peer back outside, and as Derek inhaled, he smelled that unique and incredible scent that belonged to his mate.

Scott looked up at Derek and began to hurriedly shoo people away from the door. The Pack gave him no trouble, but Melissa and Steven looked a little confused until Scott hurriedly whispered at them. Then they backed away quickly with the others.

Stiles appeared in the doorway, red and green pom-pom hat on his head and what seemed to be a fifteen foot scarf wound around and around his neck and yet still trailing on the floor. His breath steamed in the air as he gave everyone one of his enormous million dollar grins surrounded by a new goatee.

"Derek! I'm home!" he shouted. Derek jumped the stairs and landed at the bottom so hard that the silverware in the dining room rattled and some of the goblets fell over.

"WHOA!" shouted Melissa, echoed a second later by one of Steven's 'Holy Mary, etc. etc.' Derek swept Stiles up in his arms and squeezed. The foyer was suddenly full of feathers as Derek accidentally tore open Stiles' down jacket with excitement-induced claws.

"I just Hoovered!" wailed Ted.

The gathering watched Derek whirl Stiles around and around until they felt self-conscious and made their way into the dining room where Lydia was fussing over the food. "How many people have ever picked feathers off of a turkey _after _it was cooked?" she complained.

Derek finally let Stiles down after a kiss that might have lasted until New Year's had Scott (always the bravest) not cleared his throat loudly and obnoxiously at them. Stiles gave his Dad a lengthy hug while Melissa kissed him on the cheek. The Pack gave him an assortment of hugs, kisses handshakes and smacks on the back.

"What's with the goatee? You look like Evil Alternate Stiles." asked Jackson, who despised facial hair of any kind.

"I couldn't grow three whiskers before I got the wolf, I just wanted to see what it was like."

Stiles left the remains of his coat on the floor and Derek pulled out his chair just to the right of the head seat and across from Scott who sat at Derek's left. Everyone piled food high onto their plates, and Derek asked if Melissa would say Grace.

"Dear Lord, we thank you for this wonderful meal and also for allowing us all to be safe and well and together this Christmas Eve. Amen." The Pack echoed the Amen, and then looked to Derek out of respect. He was already ripping into a biscuit so no one would have to explain the custom of the Alpha eating first to the humans. Everyone followed suit and within a short amount of time one would never have known there was any food on the table to begin with. Lydia blushed at the numerous compliments thrown her way.

"I hope you enjoyed it because I am NEVER cooking again!" she said smiling. Jackson looked deeply troubled by this. "Never?" he whined.

"Don't worry Jackson…Ted and I will cook for you anytime!" Danny said, pretending to flirt. "You can even spend the night afterward."

Jackson reddened.

"Keep it up you two, and you're going to wonder how your eyes got under my fingernails!" Lydia said sweetly.

After the meal, they decided to open presents in front of the fireplace.

"As some of you may know, it's traditional for male members of a Pack to get the sigil tattooed somewhere on their body, but being that you guys are so young and not a few parents would want to kill me if I insisted, I did the next best thing."

He passed out small boxes to each Pack member save Stiles, which contained necklaces identical to Allison's Argent clan pendant, only with the triskelion sigil engraved on the front. On the back of each was the Greek letter Beta, the whole a combination of white and yellow gold. The Pack eagerly put them on.

"Where's mine?" whined Stiles.

"In my pocket. You'll get it later, trust me." Derek said mysteriously.

Derek gave a heavy wrapped package to Steven and Melissa. They opened it together to reveal a heavy leather bound book.

"That book contains all of the lore of our kind, compiled by one of our most revered Clan leaders, Eowin Radcliffe. Since both of you have children that are…in the club…this will answer all of those awkward questions you may have. I hope it sets your minds at ease."

Stiles was green with jealousy, and made grabby hands at the book.

"Want it! Want it, Derek!"

"Stiles! I converted it to a pdf. document for you."

"Oh. Okay, my turn! As everyone in the Pack is aware, all of us Betas and the puny humans (that's you two) are giving gifts that explore each of the five senses. I picked sight, so you know what you're all getting!"

Stiles' thing was pictures, and when he wasn't taking pictures of important events himself, he always managed to track down someone who had. Each black & white photo was framed professionally in a rich dark red polished wood.

Scott's picture was of him leaping in the air and making the winning shot in his first real Lacrosse game. It was a fantastic Sports Illustrated kind of shot, with Scott looking all kinds of badass. If you looked closely, you could see evidence of the Beta features on his face, but only because the picture was blown up. It was called 'The Victor'.

"I knew it! You cheated!" shouted Jackson. No one paid any attention to him.

Lydia's was a shot of her at the ill-fated Formal before things had gone wrong. It was a candid shot of her in her dress looking perfect. Every other picture Lydia had of that night had her with the too-wide vacuous smile she wore when she had her 'mask' on. This shot had her looking slightly off to the left, unaware she was even being photographed. She wasn't smiling, but it was the Mona Lisa of all pouts. There was a vulnerable look in her eyes that was so authentic and alluring it made the heart skip a beat. 'The Hidden' adorned the bottom.

Lydia crowed over the picture. "My God, Stiles! Who the hell took this? I don't remember this at all!"

"Freddy Overlock, a bigger geek than me. He had a mini fiber-optic camera hidden in his boutonniere, and a huge crush on you." Stiles said, still passing out pictures.

Jackson's picture was incredible, the jock was shirtless and sweaty, fresh from a workout. His jaw was set, and he had a look of grim determination in his eyes like a soldier on his way into battle. It was obvious Jackson loved it. It read 'The Champion'.

Lydia elbowed Danny into Ted; they were staring a little too intently at it.

"Um, that was also Freddy's picture…he swings both ways apparently, and he can hide that camera almost _anywhere…"_ admitted Stiles.

Derek was next. "I could see it now. 'The Glare.'" He joked.

It was a shot of Stiles with an open book that was either homework or werewolf research and sitting at the dining room table. Derek was leaning over him with their faces almost touching, one arm around his shoulder, palm against Stiles' chest and the other pointing at something in a large book. Instead of looking where Derek was pointing, Stiles was looking at his mate, the disbelief that he could possibly be so lucky plainly written on his face. 'The Teacher' was engraved on the bottom, but whatever he was learning, it wasn't coming from the book.

"I sort of borrowed Freddy's camera…" Stiles admitted, redfaced.

"It's amazing…" whispered Derek.

Allison's picture was posed and taken by Stiles, though this was the first time anyone had seen it. Allison was seen standing at the window of her old bedroom at the Argent house, looking up into the night sky at a glorious full moon. She was dazzling, her beautiful face full of hope and happiness. Scott was nearly invisible crouching in the shadows on the roof nearby (Stiles made him stay human for the shot) and gazing at Allison in awe. It was titled 'The Loved'.

Danny's picture was also of him in his Lacrosse uniform, but with his helmet off. An unknown player from the opposing team was on the ground, possibly injured and Danny was offering his hand to help him up. It was called 'The Hero.'

Ted's picture was of him sitting on the couch in the living room reading, Danny asleep with his head on Ted's lap. Ted was absently stroking Danny's arm, and Danny looked utterly peaceful while he slept. This was called 'The Rock'.

Finally, the newlyweds received a picture of them just emerging from the church in a picture not captured by any of the professional photographers. The couple's usual careworn expressions were gone; the smiles they had made both of them look years younger and all the hope of a new beginning was evident in their eyes. It was untitled.

"Wow, Stiles! You took this?" exclaimed Steven.

"Actually, no. It was Derek."

The rest of the Pack stared at the Alpha.

"What? I can't have hidden talents?" he grumped, glaring at them.

"But you have so many obvious ones! Frowning, scowling, being sour, glaring, grumping, growling…" began Stiles, counting each one off his fingers.

"…tickling!" finished Derek leaping on the younger boy who screamed for help to a room of deaf ears as the Alpha attacked his ribs, Stiles' fatal weak spot.

Ted and Danny picked sound, and so gave everyone front row tickets to the next Adele concert, which nearly caused Jackson to have a seizure.

"Jesus, guys, how much did you spend?" asked Jackson, taken aback. Derek glared at him. "Don't answer, I know that was a rude question…but oh man that must have cost a bunch! I really appreciate it, and I know you guys will love the concert…man, am I stoked for this!"

Steven and Melissa had picked touch, and also spent a great deal of money on a group gift…all-day passes to a deluxe Day-Spa with all services pre-paid for. Massages, mud baths, the works. Lydia especially went nuts over that, and gave Melissa a tight hug.

Scott and Allison picked the sense of smell, and had spent months handpicking colognes and perfumes out for the group that their now ultra-sensitive noses told them would work extremely well with each person's individual scent.

"Don't use them until you're…alone. The effect can be pretty powerful!" Allison advised.

Jackson and Lydia picked taste, presented everyone with gift-wrapped menus. They would all be dining the evening of the concert at an upscale steak house a short distance away free of charge, all they can eat.

"How the hell did you swing that?" asked Scott.

"Oh, I bought the place." Jackson said absently. "I picked it out!" Lydia said indignantly.

Everyone rolled their eyes.

"Well, I thought Derek might forget my gift, thoughtless boyfriend that he is, but in a happy coincidence it turns out I don't need a necklace!" Stiles announced. Standing, he pulled off his sweater and yanked the back of his t-shirt up. Stiles now had a tattoo exactly matching Derek's on his back.

"STILES!" shouted Steven. Derek face-palmed himself. "Steven, I give you my word I had absolutely no idea."

Anything else the Sheriff might have said was drowned out by the appreciative whoops, cheers and catcalls the rest of the Pack began hurling at him.

"Stiles, do you remember when I told you to wait until I'd been dead for ten years before you got a tattoo?" Steven said when Derek quieted the Pack with a Glare.

Melissa patted Steven's shoulder sympathetically. Scott opened his mouth to speak, but Melissa interrupted him.

"Scott…if you have one too…_don't tell me."_ She said through clenched teeth. Scott shut his mouth with a snap.

"Well, I _did _get you the sigil, just not on a necklace." Derek pulled out a keychain from his pocket. The triskelion flashed at Stiles, the other side reading 'To Stiles, with Love, Derek." The chain held a single car key.

"No way!" Stiles grabbed the key, but Derek yanked it out of his reach.

"Sorry, I'm too thoughtless to give this to you!"

Stiles tackled Derek laughing and trying to grab the key. Derek let him have it when Stiles played dirty and tried to tickle _him._ The Alpha couldn't let the Pack know he was ticklish. Stiles ran outside with everyone following him.

Stiles clicked the panic button on the key and heard the alarm coming from the garage. Yanking open the door, he beheld a sight that took his breath away. A 2012 Chevrolet Camaro Coupe, the Special Transformers Bumblebee Edition. It even had the Autobot symbol next to the driver's side door.

Stiles fell to his knees, mouth open wide, reaching one trembling hand to gently stroke the door handle.

Steven looked at Derek in shock. Derek shrugged. "He did really well on his report card."

"I think he did really well in the bedroom." Jackson snickered, too low for the humans to hear. Scott whacked him on the head.

"Gaaaggahhh" said Stiles.

"Sty? You okay?" asked Derek, concerned.

"Unnnuuuhhh!" Stiles informed him.

Derek rolled his eyes. "C'mon, cub. Back inside. You know I hate to think of you out in the cold with no jacket. You can drive it tomorrow. And it comes with a price tag; there is _no way_ I'm going two months without seeing you again. I get a visit _at least_ every other weekend."

"Bluboor!" agreed Stiles.

Part 3: Promises

Everyone spent the night since it started to snow heavily, and also because no one really wanted the evening to end. Derek and Stiles were the last ones up, since they wanted to clean before bed. When the last of the dishes were done, Derek suddenly backed Stiles up against the sink.

"Did I tell you how much I love the goatee…and the tattoo?" he asked huskily, slicing open the front of Stiles' shirt with a claw.

"Yeah, as soon as my Dad was out of earshot, kiss-ass. Did I tell you how much I love the Camaro?" Stiles leaned forward and nibbled at the skin over Derek's collarbone.

"No, you were mumbling in some foreign language only Jackson is dumb enough to understand." Derek whispered, closing his eyelids over gently glowing crimson orbs.

"I'm going to go up and grab a shower. Give me ten minutes and then join me." Stiles left the kitchen leaving Derek standing in more than one sense alone in the kitchen.

Sighing, he walked back to the living room and looked at the tree, rubbing his eyes and thinking of his lost family. This was the only time he allowed himself to do so, now…on Christmas, when he was alone, and just for a few moments.

"I miss you Laura. I miss all of you so much. And you Stella." He let the grief wash through him before allowing it to fade.

"That's very nice of you to say, Mr. Hale. Or should I say, son." A familiar voice said from behind him.

Derek whirled. There stood Stella Stilinsky and Laura Hale, both smiling at him.

"Oh, God…" Derek rushed over and grabbed them both in a rough hug.

"We're not supposed to be here…" began Laura.

"…but you know me!" Stella said brightly. "My son has never been happier in his life, and that is no small achievement! I wanted to thank you personally. You kept your word and made a complete turnaround, and you went above and beyond what I ever expected. If you ever need a special favor, just ask."

"Stella…please show yourself to Stiles. I know he would love to see you so much!"

Stella shook her head. "That's a rule even I can't break, and I wouldn't if I could. My husband and my son have moved on. Seeing me would only make their grief return. I visit them in their dreams…I urged Steven to build a new life, and I told my son how much I love him and how proud I am of him…and how much trouble he's in because of that tattoo! He won't be seeing me for a while though; I checked his dream schedule, and he's booked for the next few weeks. Tonight it's going to be you naked, tomorrow the car, the next day you naked _in_ the car…well, he'll probably spare me a thought on Mother's Day at this rate."

Derek's face was burning crimson, even as a smile tugged at his mouth.

Laura was making ralphing sounds. Derek withered her with a hi-intensity Glare, and she punched him in the arm.

"You're still sad over us, little brother. Don't be! We're all together, and we are really happy, especially now that you're happy. You'll see us one day, and that family gathering (she flicked her eyes over to Stiles' gift to Derek from last year, 'The Most Perfect Christmas Ever') will finally happen for real. We're not _gone_…just someplace else. Remember that."

The two ghosts faded away, saying 'Merry Christmas!' together. Derek looked at the empty space before going upstairs to join his mate.


End file.
